Nightmare
by Karategal
Summary: PreMovie Verse : 2007 Just how did Optimus Prime and the other Autobots cope with Bumblebee, the last of the younglings, when he had a series of nightmares? Protocol only goes so far when a youngling is involved...
1. Chapter I : Orn of the Dead

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

This was just something that popped into my head when I saw the movie in the theaters. Just how did Optimus Prime and the other Autobots cope with Bumblebee, the last of the younglings, when he had a nightmare? Protocol only goes far when a youngling is involved...

I'm not very familiar with the series, so please be gentle. What I know is either from the movie or from quick, random reading. This is a small series focusing on Bumblebee's childhood and side-story of my earlier stories _Little Brother_ and _Youngling _I would suggest reading those stories first to give you an idea of the storyline, but constructive criticism is welcome. Whenever an idea pops into my head, I'll write about it. Thank you and please enjoy reading.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Sparkling - Newborn

Youngling - Child

Italics - Thoughts

Breem - 8.3 Earth minutes

Joor - About 6.5 Earth hours

Orn - About 13 Earth day

Vorn - About 83 Earth years

Nightmare - Chapter I - The Orn of the Dead

* * *

The sleek silver exterior of the titanic Autobot battleship, _Artemis I_, had shone brilliantly as the bright rays from the sun in the far-off distance reflected off of its smooth outer surface. Thousands of stars hung in the darkened expanse of outer space, their vivid light pouring through the bay windows of the immense ship and catching the attention of a little Cybertronian minibot.

Bumblebee gazed out the passing windows with mild fascination, his small frame snuggled securely into the burly chassis of his broad-shouldered guardian. The impatient mech had finally picked the youngling up after incessant amounts of pleading, his short temper wearing thin and his need to blow some holes into a couple of holo-'Cons getting the better of his usually strict parenting regime. Besides, Bumblebee was still very young and a little bit of indulgence wouldn't do any harm, would it?

_Makes my life easier,_ thought Ironhide, unconsciously running thick fingers down the youngling's little head, _So who gives a slag._

Ironhide didn't need to read some Pit-fragging parenting-chip published by some glitching doctor to know what _his_ youngling needed and wanted, after all, the youngling usually made his needs and wants quite clear to the _entire_ ship if he so desired. The old mech had learned that the hard part about parenting was keeping a nice, even balance so that the youngling was kept happy, healthy, and _**not**_ spoiled rusted. And that was quite a feat to accomplish considering Bumblebee was the last of the younglings and had the full attention of every mech onboard during their off-shifts.

Of course, everyone was willing to watch Bumblebee until recharge time came around. Yep, once that cranky little grimace and droopy look came over the youngling's face he was handed right back to Ironhide and every big, tough mech onboard went running with their tailpipes between their legs.

_Slaggin' cowards,_ Ironhide thought, _They're all willing to take on big-aft Decepticon punks, but the instant Bee starts scowling they all run for the hills. Primus..._

Bumblebee clicked quietly at the feel of his guardian's soothing fingers, his optics closing and his head slowly drooping down to lay on the mech's huge shoulder. Ironhide smirked, his fingers little by little lulling the tiny bot into a much needed recharge. The little youngling still spent over half the orn in recharge and Ironhide had learned long ago that Bumblebee was miserable if he didn't get enough rest.

A tired Bumblebee was a cranky Bumblebee and a cranky Bumblebee meant that Ironhide and the entire ship would be nursing their auditory receptors for at least a joor. Little bugger had the vocal capacity to rival that of Siren's when he wanted to.

_Primus, _thought Ironhide, _I didn't bargain for **this** when I signed on for active duty. _

At this point in time, Bumblebee was no more than the Cybertronian equivalent of a two-year-old Earth child and needed to be watched constantly by sharp optics. The tiny bot was a tricky little thing and frequently managed to sneak out from beneath the sensors of his caretakers without them noticing until it was too late. Thankfully, the little bot's favorite destination seemed to the Autobot commander's office, so Bumblebee was usually fairly easy to track down.

Ironhide had lost count of the number of times he had found Bumblebee sitting atop Optimus' enormous desk, happily chattering away without a care in the universe.

Not that Optimus would ever deny the youngling anyways. All Bumblebee had to do was bat those baby blue optics and the Autobot commander would be at the devious little bot's beck and call, often having to listen to his endless chatter for joors.

Optimus Prime, the charismatic leader of the Autobots and one of the most powerful beings in the universe, had single-handedly become one of the youngling's favorite playmates.

A most illustrious honor and title indeed.

"Well, ain't tha' precious," snickered Jazz when Ironhide strode into the rec room and carefully deposited the slumbering youngling onto an empty couch. "Lil' bot's like a chronometer, conks out at the same time every orn."

"Thank Primus for small miracles," Ironhide murmured whilst walking across the room and ordering everyone in the room to, "Watch him," before he disappeared behind the firing range doors.

Jazz and the twins turned back to watching the holovid, their optics occasionally shifting every breem or so to check on the slumbering youngling. Trailbreaker, Nightbeat, Smokescreen, and Blurr sat at a table not too far off, talking animatedly and drinking their energon cubes. Cloudburst and Seaspray sat at another table only a few paces from the little bot, both deeply engrossed in a game of poker-chips whilst Streetwise and Warpath divided their attention between the game and the holovid.

After a few more breems, Jazz and the twins began to grow disgusted with the melodramatic and increasingly sappy turn of events that were occurring in the movie they were currently watching. The Special Ops Agent scanned the listings and was thrilled by what he saw on one of the stations, excitedly remarking, "I haven't seen this holo in vorns, it's a classic."

"If it ain't got energon and bolts in it, I don't want to watch it, Jazz," growled the ever petulant Sunstreaker.

"It's a horror holo, ya glitch-head," defended Jazz, "O' course, it's got plenty o' energon an' bolts." The lieutenant cast a disbelieving look at the cranky twin, muttering incredulously, "It _is_ called the _Orn of the Dead _fo' a reason, Sunny."

Sunstreaker's optics narrowed and his internal systems revved, the only thing that stopped him from smacking Jazz good and hard was the sharp elbow that rammed into his chassis. His twin brother gave him a warning glare and pointed ominously towards the shifting youngling. Every mech in the room froze when they heard the quiet clicks of the little bot, the adult mechs holding their breaths before Bumblebee finally appeared to curl himself into a more comfortable position and drift back into a deep recharge.

An audible release of tension resounded throughout the room, none of the mechs desiring to contend with a miserable youngling who had been prematurely awoken from his recharge. The little bot could raise his voice to decibels that Jazz didn't even know existed before he had had to put Bumblebee into recharge once…

Absolutely terrifying experience, to say the least. Jazz could have sworn that he had felt his auditory receptors blow a few circuits that orn. Never again…

"That was close," whispered Sideswipe, his cooling systems trying to calm his nerves and wires down. "Lil' bot's scarier than ol' Megahead when he wakes up early from a recharge."

His fellow Autobots nodded their heads in an affirmative and Sunstreaker grunted, "Just start the holo, slag-head."

* * *

_Several breems later..._

The Autobots watched the horror holo with mounting fascination, completely engrossed in the bloody carnage and terrible horror of the recently dead coming back to life and eating the living. The couches and nearby tables were now crammed with mechs who had just gotten off-shift. Energon cubes littered the tabletops and poker-chips lay discarded on a number of far counters.

Unfortunately, the older mechs were so immersed in the zombie-slaughter on the wide screen that they never noticed the restless shifting of a particular youngling. The tiny bot stared at the crowd of mechs through sleepy optics, slowly rousing from slumber as a result of hearing their loud voices and the high volume of the holovid. His quiet clicks went unheard and his slight movements went unseen, the older mechs' optics glued onto the screen and totally unaware that Bumblebee was watching the exact same bloody carnage they were.

"Poor fool," murmured Warpath, who stood directly to Bumblebee's right, "The funny bot always gets killed at some point. It's like a horror holo rule or something."

"That's because they're always annoying, 'Path," retorted Streetwise, his large frame sitting at the table directly behind Bumblebee, "You're supposed to feel relieved that they get their heads blasted off."

"Or chomped off in this case," Seaspray remarked dryly, his voice not as thrilled as his fellow Autobots. "How very pleasant..."

Bumblebee watched the wide screen with increasing fascination; he was rarely allowed to watch holos with the adult mechs. His recharge time was too early and they always said that the holos were 'far too violent for a little bot and would give him nightmares.' Bumblebee frowned, his optics clearing as he tried to see what was going on on the screen.

He wouldn't get nightmares! He wasn't scared of any holo! Ironhide said they weren't real anyways, so what was there to be scared of?

The sudden sound of a loud, shrill scream echoed from the screen and Bumblebee jumped slightly in surprise. His optics widened at what he saw…

"Told ya she was gonna die!" taunted Sideswipe, elbowing his twin in the side and holding out his hand. "Ya owe me some of that brand name wax of yours, Sunny!"

"Mute it, Sides!" growled Sunstreaker, shoving his brother into Jazz and then being shushed by the others in the room. The psychotic twin grumbled and turned back to the movie with a dark glower.

"Be quiet, the good part's coming!"

Bumblebee watched the holo with wide optics, his tiny frame shuddering when he heard the shrill screams as the zombies bit into numerous people. Some of the people may not have been of the same species as him, but seeing them mauled and mutilated was equally disturbing as the wrecked Cybertronian frames to the little bot. Bumblebee unconsciously pressed himself deeper into the couch, a quiet whimper escaping from his voice capacitor when another woman was assaulted by a staggering zombie.

Bumblebee didn't want to watch this holo anymore. He wanted 'Hide or Optimus or...

Jazz's auditory receptors swiveled on the side of his head, the faint sound of a whimper drifting through his circuits and making its way into his processor. The silver mech slowly turned his head to gaze at the couch to his far left, optics locking with the frightened ones of the youngling. Jazz felt his spark freeze at the sight of the trembling little bot…

"Slag!"

The mechs yelled uproariously when the holo was suddenly turned off mid-bloody-zombie-attack-and-annoying-screaming-female-scene, their angry optics turning to glare at the mech who had been foolish enough to turn it off and mentally planning ways to fry his circuits…

Until they saw the reason why Jazz had turned it off.

Jazz ignored everyone else in the room and quietly knelt in front of the terrified youngling, one of his hands soothingly stroking the tiny bot's head. "Aww, Bee..." The youngling immediately leapt into Jazz's arms and cuddled into the larger mech, eager to be held by one of his caretakers. "Come 'ere, lil' buddy."

His fellow Autobots glanced between the little youngling in Jazz's arms and the ominous double doors of the firing range. Bumblebee buried his tiny head into the older mech's shoulder and let out a quiet whimper.

"This isn't going to go over well," remarked Sideswipe, his fellow Autobots fixing him with annoyed glares. "What?!"

Jazz sighed, motioning for Trailbreaker to come over and pick up the little bot before he became too upset._ Why did I have to be so stupid?_ he thought, reluctantly handing the youngling over to the broad-shouldered mech. _I was supposed to be watching him! How could I be _**so**_ slaggin' stupid?!_

"'Hide's gonna turn me into scrap-heap when he finds out 'bout this."

The little bot curled into the defensive strategist's warm arms, his young processor plagued with the images of zombies and blood. Guilt swept through everyone in the room, they had all been warned by both Ironhide and Ratchet not to _ever_ let Bumblebee watch gory holos. The hiss of the firing range's doors made the crowd of Autobots cringe and turn to stare at the silhouette of the massive weapons specialist.

_Primus,_ thought Jazz, _I hope Ratchet's in a fixing-mood cause this is gonna get ugly. _

* * *

This is exactly what happened to me when I was three years old and watched the _Night of the Living Dead_ with my older cousins and brother, all of whom forgot I was on the back sofa. Apparently they all thought I was taking my daily nap a little late that evening. To say the least, I was terrified of all zombie and horror movies until I was nine, I thought there was a zombie beneath my bed waiting to get me, and I wouldn't sleep for nearly week. My mum says it was one of the worst parts of my childhood, cause I was screaming and crying almost every night for two weeks straight. Pleasant time. So, Bumblebee's kinda based off of me here, if that's alright. Hope you like the story so far and thank you for reading! Please enjoy!


	2. Chapter II : The Nightmare Begins

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

Many thanks to Elvenarchress, who was keen enough to notice something big that I completely forgot about…Sunstreaker and Sideswipe shouldn't be in this story. This was supposed to have happened before the twins arrived. Whoops. I made a boo-boo. Unfortunately, I like writing the twins too much, so they're going to be staying along for Bumblebee's screaming and crying ride. My goodness, I've been forgetting a lot of things lately.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Nightmare - Chapter II - The Nightmare Begins

* * *

The sleek silver hallways of the titanic Autobot battleship, _Artemis I_, shone faintly beneath the glowing lights of the ceilings and the faint humming of various machines and equipment could be heard through the doorways. An eerie silence hung in the air, the high walls of the rec room glinting dangerously off the dark black metal of the ship's resident weapons specialist.

Ironhide's sharp optics scanned the room, passing over the older mechs without a second thought and searching for his mischievous little youngling. Instead all he was met with was tense silence and a bunch of anxious-looking mechs. "Where's Bumblebee?"

"Oh, umm, he's wit' 'Trail," answered a rather nervous-looking Jazz, "Umm, there's kinda somethin' we need to talk 'bout, 'Hide."

The rest of the mechs in the room glanced at one another anxiously as Jazz pulled the trigger-happy weapons specialist off to the side, his face solemn and stance defeated. Sideswipe was obnoxious enough to play a little _March of Death_ sound byte and gave his friend a farewell wave, pretending to cry on his twin brother's shoulder. Sunstreaker simply glared at his moronic twin, shoving him none-too-gently into a nearby Streetwise.

Trailbreaker stood at the far side of the room, his attention focused solely on the tiny youngling in his arms. Bumblebee's little head was snuggled into the mech's broad shoulder and his small arms were wrapped tightly around his thick neck, quiet whimpers emitting from the little bot whenever he heard the slightest of noises. The strategist held the little bot protectively, whispering comforting words into his auditory receptors every time Bumblebee would shiver or whimper.

The large defensive strategist felt an overwhelming guilt cloud his processor and he clutched the youngling closer to him. He had been so immersed in the holo that he had not once bothered to check on the slumbering Bumblebee, his duty as an older mech and a caretaker taking a second-seat to his own entertainment and enjoyment. Bumblebee was his little buddy, his constant source of sunshine and optimism when he felt depressed about his horrible fuel consumption after long, strenuous missions. The little bot always knew how to take his processor off of disparaging thoughts and would go to any lengths to cheer Trailbreaker up…

Although stealing Sunny's prized brand-name wax had not been the brightest of ideas on the youngling's part.

Trailbreaker smirked at the thought, remembering the many times Bumblebee had followed the more psychotic of the twins around the ship like a little cyber-puppy and had tried to mimic everything the annoyed mech did. Sunny had finally retreated into the brig after a joor of tail-gating, not emerging until well after Bumblebee's recharge time. Trailbreaker had actually felt kind of sorry for the two Decepticons locked down there; Sunny was by far the most brutal interrogator amongst the Autobot ranks.

The large mech ran soothing fingers down the youngling's little head, hoping to calm Bumblebee's troubled thoughts and soothe…

_**"YOU WHAT?!?!"**_

Every mech in the rec room and surrounding hallways cringed at the sound of the massive weapons specialist's infuriated voice booming like an atomic explosion.

"Now Ironhide— "

"YOU FRAGGING SLAG-HEADS!!!!"

BAM!!!!!

"I have _**told** _you time and again **_NOT_** to watch those holos with Bumblebee in the room!!"

Jazz and the twins cringed from a crumbled heap on the floor, cowering beneath the fiery gaze of the vengeful god that they and the rest of the universe knew as Ironhide.

"You _**all **_know how fragging curious he is!!"

The sound of crackling cannons caused the mechs to back as far away as they could from the enraged and exasperated weapons specialist, their blue optics locked on the twin plasma cannons that Ironhide sported and Blurr wondered if he could make it to the door without getting shot in the aft. The cannons glowed a brilliant blue…

_Never mind,_ thought the speedster, _I think I'm safer right here._

Seaspray, the ever docile mech that he was, glanced at the quivering youngling and decided that he was willing to take his chances for the frightened little bot's sake, "Ironhide, I think you're over— "

BOOM!!!

The Autobots dropped to the floor when the far left wall exploded, bits and pieces of silver fluttering down on the trembling mechs. A rather sizeable hole smoldered above the holovid, Ironhide's right cannon smoking and pulsing with barely contained energy and aggression.

"I should _**blow**_ all o' you fragging glitch-heads to— "

"Ahhhhhh!!"

Every single mech in the room, be they standing or cowering on the floor, turned their optics to gaze at the shrilly crying youngling that Trailbreaker clutched in his arms, the tiny bot squirming and wriggling and screaming and keening at a decibel level that none of the Autobots had thought mechanically possible.

Ironhide immediately turned his attention from his irresponsible comrades and to his noisily wailing youngling. The defensive strategist eagerly handed the screaming bot to his more experienced guardian, Ironhide enveloping the tiny being with his immense arms and struggling to calm the terrified Bumblebee.

"What in the Pit is going— "

Ratchet was instantly silenced by the deadly glare that the oldest Autobot shot him, his blue optics shifting to gaze at the screaming and writhing little bundle of wires that Ironhide held in his arms. Hoist and Perceptor could be heard behind the medic, both demanding to what was going on, who had just been blown to bits, and how long did it look like it would take them to repair him.

"I **_will_** deal with you later," snarled Ironhide, his cannon glowing with a promise and his dark blue optics smoldering with rage. Without a second glance, Ironhide stormed out of the rec room and stomped down the now crowded hallways.

The rec room was silent for a long moment until Sideswipe slowly stood up and walked towards the exit.

"Where're you going?" demanded his twin.

Sideswipe grinned dryly and replied, "To finish recording my will-chip."

* * *

_Several breems later…_

The youngling refused to sleep. Period.

Ironhide stood with his well-built arms resting on the railing of Bumblebee's bed, which was the top bunk in the dormitory that he shared with the little youngling. His blue optics gazed around the room, taking in the many childish toys, incomplete models, and colorful game-chips that littered the floor and shelves. Everything about Ironhide's room indicated that a youngling lived within it.

The clutter and slight disorder did not bother the meticulous weapons specialist anymore. His youngling was far too vibrant to be confined to the drab décor of a soldier's quarters, so Ironhide let Bumblebee do what he wished with the room so long as it was kept clean and had some sense of order to it.

However, the room was the least of his concerns at the moment…

Bumblebee was curled into a little ball on his recharge bed, wide awake despite the soothing fingers that massaged small circles on the side of his little head. Every time he closed his optics he saw zombies and the mere thought of the lights being turned off absolutely terrified him. Once the lights went out, a blood-coated robo-zombie would jump out from under his bed, try to rip his throat apart, and would then eat his spark or processor.

The little bot knew he was being paranoid since Ironhide slept directly below him and would _never_ let anything touch or hurt him, but Bumblebee was far too scared at this point to process rationally.

Hiss!

The sound of the door opening caused Bumblebee to whimper and unconsciously curl into his guardian's colossal hand. His optics were held tightly shut until he heard the familiar voice of the ship's medic and chief surgeon.

"I heard the whole story," said Ratchet, his voice quiet and hushed, "And I have extensively researched the subject." The surgeon was closer now, obviously scanning the youngling's internal conditions and slowly reached out a soothing hand which the little bot eagerly nuzzled. "Hoist also says he has some experience with 'night terrors' from the time he spent in the Youth Sectors."

"Night terrors?"

"Severe cases of recurring nightmares. They're most common in younglings," answered Ratchet, continuing to massage the sensitive back of Bumblebee's tiny head, "And they usually occur after a traumatic or upsetting experience. It's not guaranteed that he'll experience them, but Bumblebee's at the prime age for such incidences. Hoist claims that he saw many youngling's react as Bumblebee did earlier to scary holos or stories, and quite a few of them experienced a night terror later that orn."

"What about the other ones?"

"They either refused to go into recharge or weren't affected." Ratchet clicked thoughtfully, "I believe it simply depends upon the individual and their personality."

"I never had them," stated Ironhide.

"Neither did I," said Ratchet, "But that doesn't mean Bumblebee won't and these night terrors are not something to be taken lightly if he does experience them. They can be extremely upsetting and absolutely terrifying to the individual since they believe what they are feeling and experiencing is reality. It's not uncommon for the individual to refuse to wake up at all, remaining in stasis despite their caretaker's best efforts to wake them."

"How long do they last?"

"From what I have found, they usually only occur once, during the first recharge after the initial experience. But the terrors _can_ last orns in some cases," Ratchet whispered, gazing at the now slumbering youngling. "Let's just hope he doesn't have such an experience."

"We should warn Optimus," advised Ironhide, glancing at the youngling with immense concern, "He's the only one better at soothing Bee than I am."

"I will inform him personally within the joor," assured Ratchet, "But it would be wise for you not to leave Bumblebee alone during stasis for the next few orns, even if he doesn't experience a nightmare the first night. Hoist is just down the hallway if he does have such an experience tonight though." The surgeon walked towards the door and prepared to leave, but stopped short and said, "Ironhide?

The weapons specialist looked at his friend, urging him to continue on and voice his opinion.

Ratchet smiled dryly and said, "If I have to deal with and fix those slagging twins **_one_** more time because of **_you_**, I swear to Primus that your cannon recoil spring will **_never_** be the same again," before quietly exiting.

Ironhide cringed at the thought of his cannons recoiling and knocking him clear across the battlefield. _Not_ a very pleasant thought.

His thick fingers continued to rub light circles down the youngling's head, attempting to soothe him even in sleep. Unfortunately, he could only stand so long before his joints and hydraulics began to steam and ache, so Ironhide soon found himself standing guard in his large desk chair.

_This is gonna be a long night,_ Ironhide thought, _I just know it is._

* * *

Yay! Another chapter!! And for all of those who have asked, yes, I am currently writing the last two chapters for _Little Brother_ and the undetermined number of chapters for _Youngling._ Please be patient, I am a very busy girl and with school starting in another month that will only get worst. (sigh) You gotta love school, sports, and work, don't ya?

I still will not watch _Night of the Living Dead,_ it's the only horror movie I cannot bring myself to watch now. How pathetic. Although _Children of the Corn _and _The Exorcist_ still really creep me out. The old movies seem to be the scariest, or is it just me? Well, thank you for reading, any suggestions are welcome, and I hope you enjoyed!!


	3. Chapter III : The Nightmare I

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

And I would like to thank everyone for being very understanding towards my lack of Transformers knowledge. I am learning as I go here, so most of the characters that were not in the 2007 movie are completely new to me and I really hope I get their personalities right. Thank you.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Nightmare - Chapter III - The Nightmare I

* * *

The sleek silver hallways of the titanic Autobot battleship, _Artemis I_, shone faintly beneath the glowing lights of the ceilings and the faint humming of various machines and equipment could be heard through the doorways. An eerie silence hung in the air, the high walls of the conference room glinting off the smooth metal of the battleship's commander and military strategist. 

"What do you have to say for yourselves?"

The sixteen Autobots shrunk under the intense, dark blue gaze of Optimus Prime and silently wished that they would simply dissolve into the silver floor and vanish from existence all together. Few beings could be as intimidating as their commander when he was angered, which was a rare feat in itself.

"Well?"

Every optic in the room except for Optimus' and Prowl's was fixed on the floor, shoulders slumped guiltily and internal systems revving quietly. It had been three orns since the _Orn of the Dead_ incident and the entire ship had been terrorized by the endless screams and cries of the traumatized youngling.

Optimus and Prowl had been so preoccupied dealing with a group of Decepticons who they had apprehended two orns ago that they had not had time to address the causes that had led to Bumblebee's recent night terrors.

"We were irresponsible, sir," responded a sullen Seaspray, "We ignored the fact that Bumblebee had been left in our care for the remainder of the evening and then we carelessly viewed a movie that was inappropriate for his young age. We will accept our punishment without complaint, sir."

The other Autobots stood silently and kept their heads hung low, thankful for their soft-spoken comrade's well-chosen words and sincere confession to the two intimidating mechs who glowered down at them.

Optimus gazed at his Autobots, sternly replying, "Although I know that none of you intended to harm Bumblebee in any way, the fact still remains that you all acted very irresponsibly and have caused him a great deal of pain." Every one of the mechs seemed to shrink in on themselves even further, if that were possible, at their commander's harsh words. "You are all well aware of the rules we had instated for the youngling's safety and well-being. Every one of you on this battleship agreed to adhere to them." His blue optics scanned over his soldiers before he firmly said, "And I expect you all to be more careful next time Bumblebee is in your presence."

"Yes, sir."

"Of course, sir."

"You got it, boss!"

Optimus nodded his head in firm agreement before gesturing to his second-in-command, "Prowl and I have come up with an…effective punishment that we believe will nullify any chances of this ever happening again."

The Autobots stared nervously at their devilishly smirking superiors, Sideswipe taking a fearful step back from his commanding officers. "Umm, can we talk about this, boss?"

Silence.

"Please?!"

* * *

The past three orns had been the longest of Ironhide's life. Period. 

Every little sound or slight movement seemed to terrify Bumblebee and Ironhide had lost count of how many times he had instinctively charged up his plasma cannons at the sound of his youngling's whimpers, only to discover that there were no Decepticons within their toy-and-game-chip-cluttered room. Now, after roughly three orns of refusing to recharge, ignoring his energon cubes, clutching to Ironhide's leg, and screaming at the top of his voice capacitor the few times he did go into recharge…

Ironhide was on the verge of going on the fritz and destroying half the ship in the process.

To say that Ironhide was exhausted would be the understatement of the millennia. He had not gone into recharge in over three orns, had not consumed more than four cubes of energon in over two orns, had been confined to his room for over an orn and a half, and had been forced to endure what seemed like endless breems of screaming and crying after the few times he had been able to lull Bumblebee into slumber. Every circuit in his large frame was telling him to simply slip into a _very_ deep recharge and slag the rest of the Pit-forsaken universe for a couple of joors. The only thing stopping him…

Bumblebee.

The little bot was truly terrified to be left alone for even an astrosecond and there was no slagging way Ironhide could **_ever _**intentionally hurt his little youngling. Even the thought of hurting Bumblebee made Ironhide sick, his cooling systems coursing at high levels to ease his discomfort at the mere notion. And that was why Ironhide was currently sitting in his room with a tiny Bumblebee snuggled securely in his immense arms, titanic cannons serving as make-shift pillows for the youngling's tiny head.

"You need to go into recha— "

"No!"

The stubborn little voice that was buried in Ironhide's chassis sounded tired and _very_ cranky, little clicks accenting that one word like a beacon and making the old mech wince at the intensity. Normally Ironhide did not tolerate such behavior in regards to the youngling's recharge time, but the sheer terror that Bumblebee experienced every time he slept was enough to make Ironhide disregard his strict regime.

Hiss!

Ironhide tightened his grip on the whimpering youngling, instinctively attempting to protect Bumblebee from his unseen fears and tiredly wishing that he could simply lock him in a little room where nothing could get to him.

"Still awake?" asked the quiet voice of Hoist.

"He refuses to go into recharge," explained Ironhide, running tender fingers down the youngling's tiny head, "Last night was the longest night of my life."

"Perhaps it would do Bumblebee good to get out and about," advised the doctor whilst peering down at the little bundle of wires in Ironhide's arms, "Take his processor off of the nightmares." Hoist gently poked at the little bot, attempting to get a half-decent internal scan of Bumblebee. "An unoccupied mind can be a dangerous thing."

Bumblebee reached his little arms out, watery blue optics convincing the doctor to pick him up and cradle him in his left arm. Hoist gazed down at his old friend, feeling his hydraulics hiss in sympathy as the weapons specialist groaned as he stood up from his big desk chair. The youngling settled into his side, quiet clicks resounding as he played with a random wire along Hoist's upper arm and shoulder bar.

"Take a short recharge, Ironhide," recommended Hoist, his medical side taking over when he saw the droopy optics of the huge mech, "I'll take care of Bumblebee for the next joor."

"But he won't— "

"No buts," interrupted Hoist, already heading for the door with Bumblebee in his left arm and three game-chips in his right hand, "You have to be rolling before you can be fighting." He glared when he saw the other mech attempt to stand up once again and said in a firm voice, "Lie down and recharge, Ironhide. We'll be in my lab down the hallway, but I will be sure to send someone to fetch you if Bumblebee experiences another one of his…episodes."

"But— "

"NOW!!"

Hoist strode down the hallway with Bumblebee tucked firmly beneath his left arm and left the angry grumbling of the weapons specialist behind the firmly shut doorway. It was not every orn Hoist had to contend with the cranky and trigger-happy Ironhide; Hoist usually left that life-threatening mission to Ratchet.

Maintenance was his specialty, not contending with a _very_ cranky and **_very _**sleep-deprived Ironhide. Hoist valued his life far too much to go head-to-head with his petulant comrade.

"Tired," whispered Bumblebee when Hoist deposited the little bot atop one of his lab stools.

"I know, little one," soothed Hoist whilst running tender fingers down the fatigued youngling's tiny head, "But you cannot keep fighting sleep. It is not healthy."

"But the zombies will get me," Bumblebee retorted, his blue optics gazing around the well-lit laboratory fearfully. "They're just waiting."

The youngling clutched his beloved stuffed animal, Rufus, even tighter and slowly scooted his stool closer to Hoist's workstation. The furry cross between what appeared to be a mini-version of Optimus Prime and a brown bear from Earth was made of a durable material that Wheeljack had specially constructed for the extra-special gift. The stuffed toy was soft to the touch and very similar to the teddy bears that human children slept with on Earth.

"You know that there are **_no_** such thing as zombies, little one," reassured Hoist, picking up the youngling yet again and carefully placing him on the only couch in his lab. He then pulled it over next to his work table and watched Bumblebee curl up into a little ball atop one of the cushions. "Besides, not one mech on this ship would **_ever_** let anything or anyone hurt you in any way. And I don't think any zombie would stand a chance against the great Optimus Prime, do you?"

"No," agreed Bumblebee, unconsciously searching the ship and feeling the bright presence of the Autobot commander a few floors up. "No one's stronger than Optimus."

"My point exactly," said Hoist whilst sorting a pile of wires and throwing fried ones in a nearby bin. Maybe the good doctor could somehow convince the youngling of his guaranteed safety aboard the ship. Primus knew that no one had had a decent night's recharge for the past three orns. But Hoist was more than a little hesitant to allow the tiny bot to fall into recharge.

"And Ironhide would blow any zombie that got close to you into thousands of lil' bits, right?"

"Umm hmm," Bumblebee responded, his head buried in the soft cushion. "They would get their afts kicked."

"Watch your language."

"Sorry."

"And Ratchet would dismantle anyone who dared to touch his favorite lil' patient, of course."

"Course."

"And I'm sure that Jazz and the twins would rip apart any zombie stupid enough to come near their lil' buddy with ill intent, right?"

"Uh huh."

"And Optimus would simply— "

Click. Click. Click.

Hoist glanced over his desktop and gazed down at the slumbering youngling, his blue optics dimming with love and sympathy for his troubled little patient. He could only hope that his little pep-talk of reassurance had helped Bumblebee a little bit and would allow him to get more than a breem of sleep. If this didn't work then Hoist was afraid that he would have no other choice than to bring out the big guns.

The maintenance doctor was positive that his fellow Autobots would not be too keen on his remedy for Bumblebee's night terrors, but if they persisted for one more orn then Hoist would no longer be able to stand idly by and watch the little bot suffer. He cared far too much for the youngling to allow such horrible nightmares to continue on.

Click. Click. Click.

_Poor dear_, Hoist thought whilst running soothing fingers down the youngling's tiny head, _He's so tired that he's clicking._

The sounds of familiar voices out in the hallway alerted Hoist to the release of his fellow Autobots from their interrogation in Optimus Prime's office. He could tell by the disgruntled tones that they were speaking in that the punishment was quite severe and of the kind that only Optimus and Prowl could formulate together.

Hoist watched the youngling's features silently, searching for even the slightest of whimpers or cringes of discomfort. And he would continue this vigil for as long as he had too.

Anything for the youngling.

_I only hope that there are no more_, thought Hoist, the bustling outside quieting after a few breems, _Because the necessary remedy for recurring nightmares is not something _Artemis'_ big, bad, macho warrior mechs would _**ever**_ agree to carry out..._

Unless it involved the welfare of a certain little youngling, of course.

Click. Click. Click.

_This should be interesting_, thought the doctor,_ Very interesting._

_

* * *

_

I really hope I got Hoist's personality right. I didn't want to attempt a British accent because it would probably come across as cheesy since I would do a very bad interpretation of it. I was trying to show his jovial side whilst also showing that he is exhausted. And I am guessing there will be two more chapters and an epilogue for this story. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!!

Question: Is Ultra Magnus really Optimus Prime's brother? I've found conflicting information on the internet, so if there is an expert on this subject out there I would _**really**_ like to know. Thank you for your help.


	4. Chapter IV : The Nightmare II

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

I would like to thank everyone who was kind enough to answer my questions on Ultra Magnus and his relation to Optimus Prime. Thank you all very much for your helpful knowledge and information.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Nightmare - Chapter IV - The Nightmare II

* * *

The sleek silver hallways of the titanic Autobot battleship, _Artemis I_, shone faintly beneath the glowing lights of the ceilings and the faint humming of various machines and equipment could be heard through the doorways. A hard tension hung in the air, the high walls of the hallways glinting off the smooth metal of seven bulky figures in the southern corridor that led to the brig and lower storage rooms.

"I don't think I can take much more of this," groaned Sideswipe, the echo of the youngling's cries resounding throughout the long corridors, "I _**need** _to beat the slag outta somethin'!"

"I don't think so," grunted Streetwise whilst roughly grabbing the impulsive mech and forcibly pulling him away from the brig door and the captive Decepticons that waited behind them, "No Decepticons for you." The red twin shoved the interceptor's large hand off his shoulder and released a primal growl. "And I thought you were supposed to be the less-psychotic twin."

Sunstreaker glared at the clever interceptor and quickly grabbed hold of his angry twin, his spark pulsing for some form of distraction as well. There were few things Sunstreaker truly cared about, but Bumblebee was definitely one of them. Not that he'd ever admit it, of course. Despite his best efforts, the little bot had somehow managed to wiggle his way into the violent warrior mech's spark and had formed a strong bond with Sunstreaker that no one other than his twin brother had forged. Everyone else who ever attempted to get close to Sunstreaker had ended up being ripped to dozens of charred pieces.

"Sunny's jus' got a _much_ shorter fuse," defended Sideswipe, his dark blue optics glinting dangerously, "An' it's not like I'm the only one who wants to beat the slag outta those Pit-forsaken frag-heads!"

"They're not our problem right now," reminded Nightbeat, "The youngling and his nightmares should be our foremost concern."

"I know that," snarled the red twin, punching the silver wall and shoving his twin away from him with a grunt, "But what're we supposed to do?! Jus' wait around for him to glitch-out from exhaustion or terror?!"

"Sides..." 

"It's our fault anyways," continued Sideswipe, his usual joker-self nonexistent as guilt flooded through his systems like a super virus, "Bee would've never had these Pit-slaggin' nightmares if we hadn't been so fraggin' selfish!"

None of his fellow Autobots disagreed with him, six pairs of blue optics fixed on the spotless floor in signs of obvious guilt and immense remorse. Even egotistical Sunstreaker had been disturbed by the youngling's never-ending cries of terror as Ironhide and Hoist had struggled to wake him from stasis during the fifth nightmare. Apparently, waking an individual from a night terror could be _very_ difficult at times.

Sideswipe made another attempt to get into the brig until Sunstreaker stepped in front of him and forcibly shoved him into the nearby wall. "Ya slaggin' frag-head!"

The twins were about to go head-to-head with one another when— 

"I believe I know a way to rid the youngling of his nightmares," spoke the ever-calm voice of the Autobot doctor. "Although it will be quite...trying, to say the least."

"Doc?" sputtered Sideswipe, whirling around to gaze at the friendly maintenance doctor that had patched up him and his twin brother on numerous occasions. Few mechs were as kind and thoughtful as the Autobot's resident doctor. "What're ya doin' here?"

"Looking for help to solve this ship's biggest problem," repeated Hoist, "If you are willing to assist me, that is?"

His comrades' bright blue optics immediately glowed with renewed hope, eager smirks crossing their faceplates and sighs of relief resounding throughout the corridor as they were presented with a chance for redemption. Maybe there was a chance for them yet...

"Name it, doc," said Jazz, "An' we'll do it."

"Anything for Bee."

* * *

The decibel capacities of a sleep-deprived youngling's voice capacitor were never to be underestimated. Period.

Bumblebee's terrified screams had drawn Optimus Prime down the lower hallway at lightning speeds, his powerful legs covering the distance in a few short astroseconds before he threw open the doors to Hoist's laboratory and discovered the worn-out doctor cradling a crying and writhing youngling. Hoist had quickly deposited the keening little bot into the big Autobot commander's arms and reassured Optimus that he had a few quick errands to run and that he would be back as soon as possible.

"Hush, little one, I'm here," reassured Optimus whilst stroking the youngling's tiny head with tender fingers, "I'm here. You're safe."

"It...tried to...eat me!" sobbed Bumblebee into the older mech's broad chassis, his small frame wracked with violent tremors and his tiny arms wrapped tightly around Optimus's thick neck. Every step Optimus took caused the youngling to curl even tighter into his shoulder plates, his little legs coiling upwards as if he feared another evil zombie would suddenly rise up out of the floor and snatch him away from the Autobot leader. "I couldn't...get away! And..."

"I'm here, little one, I'm here," Optimus continued to reassure whilst walking to the desk and picking up the discarded stuffed animal from beneath the couch, "And see, so is Rufus." The youngling quickly grabbed hold of the beloved cuddly toy and hastily snuggled into Optimus's side once again. "Don't worry, you're safe."

The brilliantly burning presence of Optimus seemed to envelop the entire room and conquer the shadows that loomed in the far corners. His mighty aura reassured the little bot, his spark-wrenching sobs slowly turning into shaky hiccups as he clung to the older mech. Optimus was here now, which meant that no zombies could touch him because Optimus would destroy them. No one was stronger than Optimus Prime, after all.

Optimus would protect him. Always.

Bumblebee buried his tiny head even further into Optimus's shoulder, reveling in the formidable strength that radiated from the towering commander in great waves. The Autobot's glowing aura comforted the youngling more than anything else in the universe and allowed Bumblebee to push away some of the terror that his terrible, death-riddled nightmares seemed to evoke from him.

When Optimus was with him, Bumblebee wasn't scared of— 

Hiss!

A terrified yelp emerged from Bumblebee's voice capacitor, his bubbling courage erased from existence by the ominous hissing of the doorway and his head reburied into Optimus's shoulder after its short emergence astroseconds before. Of course, Bumblebee would not have been so scared if he had seen that it was his colossal guardian standing within the doorway, and not some energon-thirsty zombie that enjoyed eating younglings and their beloved stuffed animals for dinner.

Instead, Bumblebee whimpered, unaware of his loving guardian's presence within the room and too upset to hear the familiar crackling of the titanic plasma cannons that he often used as pillows. Not that Ironhide would ever admit that he allowed the youngling to use his precious plasma cannons as pillows, of course.

He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

Then again, his current behavior did little to reinforce his aforementioned reputation. But the terrified screams of one's charge tended to rattle even the strongest and gruffest of soldiers, Ironhide among them.

The frantic optics of Ironhide peered through the doorway, his hydraulics hissing and his internal systems revving from the desperate rate at which he woke up and then ran down the hallway to reach the distressed youngling.

"He okay?" Ironhide wheezed quietly, afraid that his sudden entrance would alarm the quivering youngling.

Optimus nodded his head and shifted Bumblebee into a more comfortable position before walking towards the door. Ironhide stood silently, watching the little bot with sharp optics as a feeling of helplessness flooded his internal systems. Neither mech knew how to protect the youngling from these horrible nightmares, leaving both the commander and the weapons specialist with a sense of frustration and dread.

Ironhide would do anything to stop these horrible nightmares from hurting his youngling anymore than they already had.

Anything.

The Autobots arrived at their destination within a few minutes. The rec room was the one room in the entire ship that Bumblebee felt the most comfortable in, even more so than his toy-and-game-chip-littered dorm room. The little bot spent most of his orn in the expansive room with the older mechs, his limitless energy and inquisitive nature keeping the off-shift Autobots busy in their attempts to entertain him.

Hound loved to play holo-games with the youngling, often spending many joors with Bumblebee in the rec room playing the new games he had acquired during one of his missions.

Streetwise attempted to teach the young mech a more dubious...trade, frequently sitting down to a game of chips with the youngling on his lap, his processor observing everything around him.

Ratchet showed him basic first-aid and a hundred different ways to hurt rowdy mechs (a.k.a. twins) with a hard wrench or lethal scanner.

Brawn usually took the little mech to the weight room with him whenever he was assigned youngling-duty, him and his fellow minibots entertaining Bumblebee with weight-lifting and powerlifting contests.

The twins (mostly Sideswipe) insisted that they be in charge of the youngling's close-combat training and worked with him almost every other orn on self-defense and hand-to-hand combat. Of course, one could only be so rough with a mech as tiny as Bumblebee, so they usually ended up play-wrestling (Sunstreaker would deny this) with the fiesty lil' minibot within a few short breems, much to Ironhide's chagrin.

Blaster often took up on behalf of the twins' shortcomings, preparing simple routines which held the youngling's attention whilst the older mech's trademark loud music blasted in the background. After all, Bumblebee _**was**_ the only mech besides himself onboard who could tolerate such audio-shattering decibel levels.

Jazz simply spent all of his off-time with the youngling, completely and utterly spoiling him.

Wheeljack probably spent the most time with Bumblebee besides Ironhide and was in charge of making everything that the youngling used in his every-orn life.

Trailbreaker frequently worked on toy models with the little bot, his massive size belying the deft movements of his thick fingers as he constructed miniature battleships and cruisers.

Cloudburst spent most of his time with the youngling in either the playroom or in secured environments off-ship, skillfully devising numerous games which would teach the little mech how to disguise himself and blend in with his surroundings.

Blurr frequently took the youngling off-ship and spent many joors building up the mechanics of Bumblebee's lower frame so that he would be prepared for his future stealth training regime.

Cliffjumper, despite being impulsive and trigger-happy, was actually quite attentive when watching the little mech and Bumblebee often complained about him being the strictest of his caretakers.

Cosmos showed the bright-yellow minobot recordings from his missions, entralling the youngling with pictures of sand-covered deserts and cerulean waterworlds.

Perceptor _attempted_ to teach the youngling vital coursework that he would have received in the Youth Sectors. Unfortunately, the older mech tended to use big words that made Bumblebee wonder if they were even speaking the same language.

Inferno routinely worked on teaching the little bot basic self-defense and survival training. This often resulted in twins insisting that they take part and then everything would simply escalate from there.

Grapple gladly entertained the youngling with artistic projects from the various cultures he had visited on missions.

Red Alert simply tried to keep track of the rambunctious youngling and spent a significant amount of his time chasing the little bot all over the ship.

Blades attempted to show the little mech how to street fight, but most of the time Bumblebee simply stared up at him, not quite comprehending the point of dismantling another living being.

Of course, many of the mechs onboard did not quite know what to make of the youngling at times. Most of the warrior mechs had never even held a youngling before and often treated Bumblebee as if he was either made of glass or was going to bite them. Then again, not much else could be expected from mechs who had spent the past couple thousand vorns fighting for their lives in an energon-soaked war.

Pointblank spent many weary evenings seated before one of the towering bay windows with the youngling curled up in the crook of his arm, wizened optics gazing into the depths of space whilst reminiscing of times long past and what the universe would be like once the war was finally over.

Warpath attempted to show the little bot his beloved gun without Ironhide finding out, often resulting in a loud argument between the two hard-headed mechs.

Slingshot simply tried to figure out how to get rid of the annoying little pest. He really did not understand what everyone thought was so great about the little yellow rodent who seemed to cry over the slightest tumble or insult. How utterly annoying...

Sky Lynx thoroughly enjoyed resting in the far corner of the rec room after a particularly long orn of death-defying missions, his thick tail curled loosely around the eager little mech as he told Bumblebee all about his many amazing exploits and unsurpassed achievements.

Tracks, the ever flamboyant and boisterous mech that he was, frequently entertained the little bot with his rather...stylish fighting style, much to the irritation of Ironhide and the twins.

Dogfight was in charge of teaching the youngling basic defense against aerial fighters (or at least making him aware of the danger) and spent long joors prepping Bumblebee for his future spy training in the aerial defense field.

Jetfire was responsible for much of Bumblebee's education where science was involved and spent long joors with the little mech, often performing simple experiments for the entertainment of the youngling.

Skydive was Bumblebee's favorite storyteller, frequently sitting with the aerial for long periods of time as he told the little mech wondrous stories of ancient heroes and civilizations.

Nightbeat enjoyed creating puzzles for the little mech, carefully constructing mazes and CPU-teasers for the youngling. Too bad Bumblebee always seemed to lose the pieces though...

But overall, the youngling brought a breath of fresh air to the militaristic halls of _Artemis I_. Most of the mechs onboard the battleship had lost loved ones in the war, leaving them with only their comrades to rely on as the future seemed to become darker and darker for their race.

First Aid, who was perhaps even more of a worry-wart than Ratchet and Hoist combined, fretted and fussed constantly over the youngling who thoroughly enjoyed the undivided attention he always received from the gentle, young medic.

Huffer, in an effort to get rid of the annoying little yellow micro-bug, frequently gave Bumblebee data-chips of obscure riddles which would effectively keep him quiet and thinking for many joors before one of his other caretakers would come to pick him up.

Rollout simply told the minibot to go away and never bother him again.

Air Raid enjoyed living up to his namesake, eagerly showing Bumblebee some of the death-defying acrobatic tricks that often left his enemies staring wide-opticed in shock as he descended head-on upon them from a circuit-wrenching vertical angle.

Quickmix did what he did best and always made sure that some of his safer experiments _accidently_ blew up when Bumblebee (and definitely not Ironhide) was conveniently in the room.

Gears loved complaining about being separated from his homeworld of Cybertron; thus, most of the time he spent with the little bot was taken up by the grand stories he weaved of Cybertron and the Golden Age. Basically, he was Bumblebee's history instructor.

Silverbolt, being the laid-back and reserved mech that he was, thoroughly enjoyed watching cartoons with the younglings and often spent his off-shifts with Bumblebee curled up in his lap and Fireflight snuggled into his side as _Space Bandits_ blared on the holovid.

Fireflight, Bumblebee's only fellow youngling, almost gave the older mechs spark-attacks as his main form of entertainment when watching Bumblebee was to fly around with the younger mech on his back _**inside**_ the ship.

Powerglide prefered a safer method that did not involve Ironhide attempting to blast him in the aft; thus, the aerial bot favored showing off his amazing flying skills _**outside**_ the ship and _**without**_ Bumblebee on his back. Instead the youngling was kept safely within the ship and behind a thick bay window. How thrilling...

And it truly was amazing that Ironhide had not blown neither the twins nor the aerial bots into the deepest depths of the Pit for all of the times he had caught them pulling crazy-aft stunts when Bumblebee was supposed to be under their watch for the joor. Countless doors had been blown to bits by the infuriated weapons specialist in his attempts to blow certain careless mechs into the great beyond. Unfortunately, permanently traumatizing Bumblebee for the remainder of his life was not Ironhide's idea of good parenting, so he always ended up shooting a nearby wall or the aft-plate of his cowering victim instead of their thick cranial units.

Seaspray was one of the more responsible caretakers, preferring to entertain the youngling with stories of vast oceans and exotic sealife.

Landmine often took the little minibot with him on various adventures throughout the ship and around it whenever they landed on a relatively safe planet.

Beachcomber attempted to show the youngling how to meditate. This usually resulted in Bumblebee pretending to find his _inner self_ and then sneaking off once the older mech was far off in his own little world.

Raindance opted to a more practical approach and entertained the little bot with the thousands of beautiful pictures he had obtained on his reconnaissance missions.

Smokescreen simply helped the future-little-spy with his...sneaking skills. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Bluestreak snatched up the minibot any chance he got and enjoyed playing a mean game of hide-and-seek with him. The irony, of course, was that Bumblebee _**always**_ won.

Mirage often enjoyed a good game of hide-and-seek with his little protege as well. Except in this case, Bumblebee was the one who **_never_** won.

And Prowl simply tried to keep the little bot onboard and in one piece whenever they landed on a strange planet.

The life that a youngling led onboard _Artemis I_ was never boring, to say the least.

Every Autobot in the room immediately turned to gaze at their commander, their dark blue optics drawn to the little yellow bundle of wires that Optimus held in his arms. Hound and Bluestreak stood up from their game of chips, the quiet hiccups of Bumblebee reaching their auditory receptors and alerting them to his previous distress. Silverbolt and Skydive sat on the couch in front of the holovid, both engrossed in the show that was on the huge screen.

The quiet hiccups caught the attention of the four minibots in the weight room, all of whom peeked around the corner and watched the two larger mechs with great interest. Although they had not seen their fellow minibot in almost two orns, the four had certainly heard him throughout their recharge time.

"Bumblebee," Optimus whispered, patiently waiting for the little bot to look up at him and confirm that he had his attention, "Would you like to watch your shows?"

Bumblebee gazed around the familiar room with watery optics, his quiet hiccups echoing off the walls and nearly drowning out his softly whispered, "Uh huh."

The tiny bot reluctantly broke contact with the Autobot commander, not quite sure of his safety by being placed so close to the floor once again. However, once Bumblebee realized that he was placed snuggly in between the very large and very strong Skydive and Silverbolt on the main couch, he visibly relaxed and wasted no time in cuddling into the two mechs to watch his favorite shows.

Rufus included, of course.

It also was not long before Bumblebee took notice of his fellow youngling, Fireflight, who was sitting on the floor in front of Silverbolt. The bright red and white youngling, who was about the Cybertronian equivalent of an eleven-year-old Earth child, was leaning back against his guardian's thick legs and wasted no time in attempting to entertain his sole younger comrade. Silverbolt gave Optimus and Ironhide a brief nod, obviously attempting to soothe his fellow guardian's worries. And although he did not know too much about night terrors, the aerial commander was rather experienced with nightmares due to the fact that Fireflight's partially deleted memory banks that contained files of the destruction of his Youth Sector occasionally resurfaced during his recharge cycles.

Silverbolt had lost count of the number of times he had awoken to his adoptive youngling's cries of terror and sorrow.

"You sure you want to leave him so soon?" asked Ironhide, following Optimus out the doorway after they discreetly, yet firmly, instructed the off-shift mechs to watch the youngling and keep him distracted until they returned in a few breems. "What if he has another nightmare?!"

"They will keep him awake, Ironhide, trust me," Optimus reassured his anxious comrade, silently chuckling at the gruff ol' mech's protective streak. "Not one of those mechs want to have a terrified Bumblebee on their hands without you or I to assist them. Not even Silverbolt."

"Why are we leaving the youngling, anyways?"

"I have a feeling that Hoist knows of a solution to our current youngling problems," said Optimus whilst turning down the corridor that led to the good doctor's lab.

"If the doc had a solution then _why_ didn't he tell us of it when this whole Pit-slagging ordeal started?!" demanded Ironhide, his sleep-deprived processor more than a little frazzled by the past three orns.

"I do not know, my friend," answered Optimus truthfully, "But I intend to find out."

* * *

This was a very difficult chapter to write, it must have been because of Optimus. So hard to write the godly one. And I find it very amusing that many people were terrified of _Jurassic Park_, when I watched it when I was three and never had a single nightmare from it. Apparently, I was absolutely terrified of zombies but wanted to have a pet T-Rex after watching the movie. How messed up is that?

Question: Would the Dinobots have been around at this point in time would they have not even been created/activated/on Earth or on Cybertron yet/at this point?? I'm sorry if it's a stupid question but I really am confused by the difference between some of the timelines and the characters. This just shows how little I really do know about the show and how unfamiliar I am with it.


	5. Chapter V : The Nightmare Ends

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

I would like to point out to everyone reading my stories that I myself do not plan on writing any post-movie stories because of the two sequels that will be coming out over the next few years. However, another writer by the name of lady tecuma has been writing a lovely post-movie story called Sparks and Plasma that draws many of its ideas from my stories. I encourage everyone to read this wonderful, well-written story. Thank you.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Nightmare - Chapter V - The Nightmare Ends

* * *

The sleek silver hallways of the titanic Autobot battleship, _Artemis I_, shone faintly beneath the glowing lights of the ceilings and the faint humming of various machines and equipment could be heard through the doorways. Quiet whispers could be heard through the tall double doors of one of the ship's many labs, the occasional crash or clang coming from within the cluttered and chaotic chamber. 

CLANG.

"Owwww!!!"

"Oh, be quiet! You've been hit a lot harder than that before and still came off the battlefield walking, so stop fidgeting."

"Yeah, but— "

BANG.

"Owww!! What'd you— "

SMACK.

"Pit-slagging bitch!! What was that for?!?!?!?"

CLANG.

"Owwww!!!"

"For being a pain in my aft!! Now sit still!!"

Sideswipe continued to groan as Ratchet and Wheeljack finished making the final adjustments to his twisted and mangled frame whilst the other mechs stood off to the side and discussed the good doctor's strategy. Ironhide paced restlessly back-and-forth in front of the doors, anxious to fulfill his part of the plan and return to his youngling. Every mech in the room was praying to Primus that Hoist's plan of attack would work and placate the horrible nightmares that Bumblebee had been suffering through for over three orns. The fact that there was nothing they could do had slowly been driving the mechs of _Artemis I_ glitchy with frustration and fear for the youngling's fragile health.

"Calm down, Ironhide," reassured the soothing voice of Optimus Prime, "Skydive and Silverbolt are with him."

"I don't like this, Optimus," stated Ironhide, his pacing quickly becoming even more feverish, "What if this only scares him more? I mean, I don't think I'd ever be able to forgive myself if I intentionally hurt Bee or— "

Optimus silenced his friend by placing a calming hand on his shoulder and turning the bulky mech around to face him, "Hoist knows what he's doing, especially with little younglings. Trust him."

Ironhide simply shrugged him off and continued his pacing, temporarily blinded by his almost unbearable need to return to his little charge. His leader sighed tiredly and subconsciously reached out to the youngling through their spark bond, sifting through the countless emotions that Bumblebee unknowingly projected towards him. The colossal Autobot could sense the youngling's exhaustion and fear, although there were clear traces of hope and comfort interlaced with the darker emotions.

"Done!"

Ironhide and Optimus both turned around to stare at the technical mechs and their victim on the examination table. Laughs and snickers echoed throughout the room at the sight of their comrade, his usual glossy paintjob and immaculate frame almost completely unrecognizable beneath the many additions Ratchet and Wheeljack had made to his large structure of framework.

"That's a good look fo' ya, Sides," snickered Jazz, "Real stunnin'."

"Mute it, slag-head!"

The other Autobots crumbled into loud fits of laughter at the hilarious sight, none of them capable of staring at the warrior mech for more than a few moments. Even Hoist and Optimus couldn't contain their quiet snickers. Sideswipe merely pouted and glared at his so-called friends before finally turning to Hoist.

"Are you sure this is gonna work?"

"Positive."

* * *

_Several breems later…_

Optimus and Ironhide walked down the hallway that led from the rec room to the dormitories, Bumblebee tucked firmly beneath the Autobot leader's left arm. The young bot clicked quietly, his cuddly toy held tightly in his left arm whilst his right played with the wires on the side of Optimus' shoulder joint. The titanic mech gently removed Bee's little hand from his joint before playfully flicking his noseplate, causing the youngling to squeak and giggle in delight.

Unfortunately, Bumblebee's little giggles were soon cut short by a long yawn, his tiny head firmly snuggling into the warm crook of Optimus' neck and soft clicks escaping his voice capacitor. Optimus unconsciously tightened his hold on the youngling, glancing at the weapons specialist nervously as they neared his and Bumblebee's room. Every little click that reached Optimus' receptors tugged at his spark and made him, if possible, even more determined to stop these horrible nightmares.

The youngling never noticed the figures trailing behind them.

"We're here, little one," Optimus whispered, gently lifting the little bot further up into his arms whilst Ironhide opened the doorway and entered the room. The tiny minibot clicked quietly and snuggled into Optimus' shoulder, stubbornly refusing to let either of the mechs place him on the top bunk. "Bumblebee…"

"No!" squeaked the youngling, wrapping his little arms around Optimus' neck and glaring at Ironhide. "I stay here!"

"But what about poor Rufus? Do you want him to get lonely?"

Bumblebee clicked in horror and looked around the room, suddenly realizing that he had dropped his beloved cuddly toy during his little fit. What if the zombies got him?! Bumblebee knew that they were just waiting and biding their time, watching the little bot until one of his caretakers made a mistake and left him all alone. Then, they would snatch him up and eat him!

"Rufus?!"

Ironhide took advantage of the little bot's momentary confusion and snatched him from Optimus' arms, placing the twittering youngling into his bunk and handing him the much-loved cuddly toy. Noisy squeals and chirps of relief filled the room as Bumblebee chattered on about poor Rufus, apologizing to the inanimate stuffed animal about leaving him to be eaten by the zombies.

"Rufus! I'm **_so _**sorry!" wailed the little bot, thoroughly examining his dearly loved cuddly toy for signs of bite marks. "No bite marks! They didn't get you! 'Hide saved you! Look, 'Hide, no bite marks!"

"No bite marks, little one," confirmed Ironhide, both him and Optimus chuckling at the little bot's enthusiasm, "Rufus shall live to see another orn."

"Ha!" Bumblebee cheered, grabbing a couple of small toys from the far corner of his bed and throwing them at the floor, "Stupid zombies! Humph!"

The little bot then grabbed his blanket, curling up on the far side of his bed away from the railing and proceeded to hide amongst his mountain of fuzzy, yellow pillows. Wheeljack had personally designed everything in the room from the pillows and blankets, to the cushions and shelves, and even the bunk ladder and Ironhide's big desk, to safely accommodate little Bumblebee. The youngling's many toys and brightly colored furnishings were specially designed to be durable yet soft to the touch, making Bumblebee's living environment as child-like and safe as possible.

"Recharge time, little one," declared Ironhide whilst reaching into the mountain of yellow fuzz and searching until he felt the cool metal of his little youngling. Loud squeals and giggles escaped the mound of pillows as Ironhide mercilessly tickled the youngling's sensitive wires. "Can I leave you alone for one breem?"

The only response he received were countless clicks and squeals, Bumblebee too engrossed in escaping the tickling fingers of his guardian to pay attention to anything else at the moment. Ironhide and Optimus both looked at one another before making a quick exit out the doorway, leaving the youngling to recover from the tickle-fest that he had just endured. Nevertheless, their voices could still be heard through the doorway and Ironhide had left the little nightlight on the desktop on, illuminating the right and lower half of the room.

A few moments passed before Bumblebee was composed enough to stick his little head out of the mountain of pillows and gaze into the darkness, "'Hide?"

Silence.

Bumblebee clutched Rufus tightly to him and ventured out just a few scant inches further, whispering hopefully, "Optimus?"

Silence.

Frightened clicks escaped Bumblebee's voice capacitor as he buried himself back into the mound of pillows and desperately searched for the warmth of the Autobot leader through their sparks. The burning presence of Optimus on the other side of the doorway reassured the youngling a little bit, but the eerie darkness of the room still caused him to whimper in fright.

Nevertheless, Bumblebee's fierce vigil did not last more than one breem before the exhaustion of the past three orns finally became too much and forced the little bot's optic lids to close for the night. It would be almost a half joor later before…

CLANG.

The loud sound awoke the groggy little bot, his tiny frame uncurling from a tight ball as he was ripped from the beginning of another nightmare. Or at least, Bumblebee thought he was awake now.

Click. Click. Click.

Bumblebee jumped at the sudden sound and pressed himself back against the wall behind him, blue optics wide with terror as the shadows seemed to shift around him. The sound of movement could be heard from the dark floor beneath his bunk, scratching and clawing at the bottom of Ironhide's bed. Bumblebee clicked in horror, realizing that he must still be in his nightmare.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

The youngling clutched Rufus tightly, small tear tracks of liquid energon falling from his blue optics as the sound became louder and louder. Bumblebee whimpered and began to quietly cry, wishing that the zombies would just go away. They would eat him like they always did! He was always alone!

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Bumblebee curled into a tight little ball and sobbed into his beloved Rufus, his little frame shaking as he tried to contain the harsh sounds. The zombies were going to eat him! And Optimus and 'Hide would never know what happened before it was too late! The zombies would be waiting underneath the bed and then grab the older mechs and eat them too!

Click. Click. Click.

Bumblebee sobbed into the pillows, desperately hoping that the zombie would not try to eat him or that Ironhide was in his bed below. After a few seconds and then hearing the sound become even louder, Bumblebee did what he always did when he was scared…

_**"AAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"**_

The sound of shouts and footsteps immediately echoed throughout the room as the Autobots rushed to the aid of their youngest and most precious member. The youngling continued to scream even after the door was smashed open and the familiar voices of his caretakers were heard within the room. His tiny frame was soon plucked from amongst the pillows by strong hands and firmly tucked within a burly shoulder, his cries muffled by the tough plating and warm wires that made up the thick limb.

The distinct sound of metal against metal could be heard throughout the room and Bumblebee could clearly hear the loud curses of his caretakers and the blasts of their huge cannons. His bleary optics watched as the older mechs ripped the zombie apart and blew it into many pieces with their mighty cannons. Bumblebee buried his little head into the burly shoulder of his protector, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

The zombies were gone.

A gentle hand softly massaged his head and a quiet voice whispered soothingly into his receptors, the familiar presence calming him down and slowly lulling him back into a deep slumber.

He was finally safe.

* * *

_One breem later..._

"How ya feelin', Sides?"

"Mute it, Jazz..."

"What was tha'?"

"I said: Mute it before I deactivate you!!!"

Optimus ignored the bickering mechs and simply smiled down at the tiny youngling sleeping in his arms, the quiet clicks that came from Bumblebee's voice capacitor an indication of his untroubled slumber. The titanic Autobot commander then turned to gaze at the writhing zombie (a.k.a. Sideswipe) who lay at the foot of Ironhide's bed, moaning and groaning in pain. It seemed the extra padding and plates that Ratchet had added had not absorbed much of the cannon blasts or physical impacts after all.

"Owwww," moaned Sideswipe, "My aft! My poor, poor aft!"

"Oh, shut it, Sides," retorted his twin, "You've had worse."

"Says you, you traitor!"

Hoist had decided that the best way to treat Bumblebee's nightmares, because of his very young age, would be by attacking them at the subconscious level; which meant that the Optimus and his fellow Autobots had had to use the youngling's exhaustion and garbled grasp of reality after waking from a nightmare to their advantage. They had attempted to convince Bumblebee's subconscious, which had been causing the nightmares, that there was either no such thing as zombies or there were no more zombies onboard.

They had decided to go with the latter, of course.

They also had to hope that Bumblebee's rather gullible young processor had not picked up on the more inconsistent parts of their little plan, such as zombies being in other parts of the ship, off-ship, where they came from, what did they do with the body, etc. Fortunately, Hoist was fairly certain that Bumblebee's young processor would not pick up on such things and would simply revert back to its usual routine.

Which usually involved wreaking havoc throughout the battleship and driving the entire crew fritzy when they couldn't locate the scampering little bundle of yellow paint and tiny wires.

The designated zombie (a.k.a. punching-bag) had been Sideswipe, unanimously chosen by his fellow Autobots as the best possible choice amongst them. Wheeljack and Ratchet had then dragged the poor mech down to their labs where they had outfitted him with all of the padding and extra plates that would be necessary during the destruction of the zombie (a.k.a. free-for-all Sideswipe payback). Sunstreaker had happily (or sadistically) volunteered to take (more like drag) his distressed twin down to Ironhide's and Bumblebee's room where he had then proceeded to ruthlessly shove his brother into the small space beneath Ironhide's bed.

Ironhide and Optimus had then brought the youngling back to the room, effectively placing him in his bunk and then exiting the room without incidence. They had then allowed exhaustion to work its magic and had simply waited for the inevitable to happen...

The nightmare.

The moment Sideswipe had heard Bumblebee's tiny cries of fear that indicated the start of another nightmare he had begun to make a wide array of menacing noises (which had actually been his own desperate attempts to escape the cramped conditions beneath Ironhide's bed.) Apparently, it had taken Sideswipe some time to wriggle his way out from underneath the bunk, completely terrifying the little bot into believing that he had still been in the nightmare world.

And then, without further ado, Bumblebee had screamed…

Thus, resulting in the groaning zombie (a.k.a. mech) on the floor and the contented youngling in Optimus' arms. Unfortunately for Sideswipe, the other Autobots had agreed that they needed to make it look and sound realistic so that the youngling would believe that the terrible zombie was no longer in existence. And Sideswipe's fellow Autobots had been more than happy to pay the red twin back for all of the cruel pranks that he had played on them over the vorns.

Poor, poor Sideswipe. His aft would never be the same again.

Bumblebee squeaked softly in Optimus' arms, cuddling into the warm crook of his neck and falling into an even deeper slumber. Optimus simply smiled and kissed the top of the little bot's head, earning him another contented squeak from the tiny youngling. Hopefully, come morning, their eccentric efforts would prove to have paid off and the nightmares would be over for good.

_It's hard to believe that such a tiny creature_ c_ould wield such power over so many hardened warrior mechs,_ thought Optimus when Sunstreaker and Streetwise both tried to discreetly gaze over his shoulder at the innocently slumbering youngling. _So small, yet so strong. _

Optimus ran a thick finger gently down the youngling's cheekplate, Bumblebee simply squeaking and clicking in response before cuddling even further into the powerful mech.

_What would we do without you, little one?_

* * *

Yay!! One more chapter to go!! I hope this chapter lives up to everyone's expectations. And yes, my mother and older cousins used a method very similar to this one to stop my nightmares. Basically, my older cousins heroically went under my bed with toy Jedi lightsabers and did battle with the zombies after the second week of my nightmares. It actually worked, oddly enough. But then again, I was only three years old at the time. Anyways, thank you very much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!! 

And once again, I would like to remind everyone to read the story Sparks and Plasma by lady tecuma, if you liked my stories you will most definitely like this one since it has many ideas similiar to mine in it. Thank you.


	6. Chapter VI : Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers or any of the characters, Hasbro & Paramount Pictures does.

I would like to personally thank everyone that has been kind enough to give me information on the various characters and continuities of Transformers. I have tried to write the best stories that I can and I would like to thank you all for being patient with me. I hope this ending to my first finished story is satisfactory and that you will all continue to read my stories. Thank you.

Now remember, Bumblebee may seem OOC here because he is _very _young, practically a baby-bot. This is how some of my very little cousins and much younger brother would probably act in a situation like this, so be open-minded and nice, please. Bumblebee would want that.

Nightmare - Chapter VI - Epilogue

* * *

_Many vorns later…_

The sleek silver hallways of the titanic Autobot battleship, _Artemis I_, shone faintly beneath the glowing lights of the ceilings and the faint humming of various machines and equipment could be heard through the doorways. The sound of voices echoed throughout the hallways from the enormous rec room, over a dozen off-shift mechs occupying their time by playing various games, watching the holovid, practicing in the large firing range, or working out.

Everything in the Autobot world of off-shift activities was proceeding as normal until…

"Bumblebee!!!!!!"

The entire battleship seemed to quake beneath the booming voice of the Autobot's resident weapons specialist, his heavy footfalls echoing down the adjacent hallway whilst smaller, lighter ones scurried through the doorway. The twins and Jazz barely had time to react before a bright yellow blur zoomed past them and hid amongst the many machines in the weight room.

"Wonder what he did this time?" pondered Sideswipe. "Must've been good if the big guy is this steamin' mad."

Bumblebee had been driving the entire crew fritzy for the past few vorns, the little bot having entered what Ironhide had recently dubbed the 'terrible vorns'. The youngling was about the Cybertronian equivalent of a nine-year-old Earth child and could be very conniving and troublesome when he was in an 'evil' mood. Every one of the adult mechs were impatient to dock at the next neutral planet and get the bored youngling off-ship for a few dozen joors.

Unfortunately, the next neutral planet was over twelve joors away and the Autobot crew were not too sure how much more they could take of the disobedient youngling. The crew was also not sure if they would be able to save Bumblebee from his own enormous-and-planet-blowing-cannon-totting guardian. Sideswipe cherished his aft _**way **_too much to risk it. Not again.

Bumblebee was on his own this time.

The hulking frame of Ironhide burst through the doorway a few astroseconds later and tore towards the weight room, his titanic plasma cannons crackling and burning with deadly promise. Every mech in the room froze and turned to gaze at the smoldering mech, curious as to what the mischievous youngling had done this time. It did not take long for the other Autobots to catch sight of the little pink and yellow sparks drawn all over the black mech's frame.

"That little runt stole my brand name paint!!" snarled Sunstreaker, his twin trying to restrain him from charging after the hiding youngling. "You little…"

"That's…umm…that's a great look ya got goin' there, 'Hide," snickered Jazz, the other Autobots and himself struggling to contain their laughter. "Absolutely stunnin'."

"Where **_is_** he?!" growled Ironhide, shoving his colossal right plasma cannon into the face of the flashy mech. "When I get hold of him— "

"Ironhide!"

Optimus Prime stood in the doorway, his powerful frame towering over the other mechs in the room and leaving them with a _very _slight sense of inferiority. His dark blue optics were locked on his infuriated weapons specialist, the hand that was not holding a stack of data-chips was pointing meaningfully towards the firing range doors. The large commander did not want to see another gaping hole in any of the walls of his battleship again.

The youngling probably deserved whatever punishment the older Autobot would dish out; however, Optimus did _**not**_ wish to see Ironhide's temper get the better of him again. Optimus knew that his weapons specialist loved Bumblebee with every molecule of his war-hardened spark, but the carefree youngling had a bad habit of pushing his luck a little too far at times. And Ironhide's red-and-blue-spotted optics instantly confirmed that this was one of those times.

"Firing range," ordered Optimus, "**_Now_**."

Ironhide glared at Optimus, stalking towards the firing range and mumbling about how the bigger mech was probably going to give the youngling a soft punishment and that the little bot would think that he could get away with anything. "You better teach that lil' scrap-pile some manners or else he's gonna be cleanin' the bulkheads for the next vorn."

"I thought manners were your specialty, 'Hide?" taunted Sideswipe.

BOOM!!!

"Not again!" moaned Grapple, staring at the huge hole in disbelief, "I just finished repairing the _last_ one!"

"I'll deal with him," Optimus assured, striding into the weight room and scanning the maze of machines. It only took the mighty Autobot a few astroseconds to find what he was looking for amongst the farthest exercise machine and Optimus wasted no time in plucking the youngling from his hiding spot. Optimus held the squirming Bumblebee by his scruff-bar and raised him so that the youngling was dangling right in front of his glowering face.

"Hi," squeaked Bumblebee, grinning sheepishly and blinking his baby blue optics at the towering Autobot commander, "What brings you here to this lovely work-out room?"

"You and I," said Optimus, valiantly resisting the adorable pout and watery optics that the little bot was wielding so deviously, "Need to have a talk, little one."

Bumblebee gulped.

* * *

_Several breems later…_

Ironhide stomped back into the rec room and glowered at his fellow Autobots, his plasma cannons still lightly smoking and his paintjob back to its glistening black after the desperate efforts of Grapple to keep the battleship in one piece. For being such an easily depressed bot, the creative mech sure knew how to move when it came to preserving his creations and projects. The weapons specialist had been amazed to see the other mech in the firing range, standing behind him with a cube of black paint and a no-nonsense expression on his faceplate.

"'Hide!"

The grumpy ol' mech barely had enough time to open his arms before a little blur of yellow paint collided with his chassis and began chattering a kilometer a breem, bright blue optics dancing with innocence that Ironhide loved above all else. His heavy cannons instantly cooled down so as not to burn the youngling, his protective instincts overriding the simmering anger that was still smoldering within him.

"I'm sorry," Bumblebee said, his little arms wrapping around Ironhide and his tiny head snuggling into the crook of the mech's thick neck, "I promise I won't do it again and that I'll never listen to Jazz or the twins— "

"Hey!" cried the indignant voice of Jazz, "Tha' wasn't part o' the boss' lecture, ya lil' traitor!"

"— again and that taking Sunny's paint is wrong even if he's mean and refuses to share it— "

"I'm the one who paid for it, ya lil' runt!" Sunstreaker growled.

"— even after I asked nicely and said 'please' and promised not to tell you about his and Sides' stash— "

"You little brat!" shrieked Sideswipe, too infuriated to care about the deadly glare and dangerous crackling that was coming from the weapons specialist, "Wait 'til I get a hold of you!"

"— and that I shouldn't be such a pain in the skidplate when you're on shift," finished the little bot whilst staying firmly pressed into his guardian's warm side, "I'm sorry."

Ironhide simply sighed and tiredly grumbled, "Bumblebee, you need— "

"Oh, and I love you."

The last statement was then finished off with a quick kiss to Ironhide's cheekplate and yet another endearing hug from the youngling. Every mech in the room stared plainly at the gruff old mech, anxiously awaiting his reaction to the open display of affection from the little minibot. Not one of them dared to comment on the moment shared between guardian and youngling.

Although they were _**very**_ frustrated by Bumblebee's impish ways by this point in time, they did not wish to see the youngling shot down emotionally after the stern lecture he had just received from Optimus and the lengthy apology he had just given his guardian. Bumblebee was a youngling after all, an important fact that they often overlooked or forgot.

"Okay," rumbled Ironhide, holding the youngling out at arms length and scanning him with his dark blue optics, "Who are you and what did ya'll do with the real Bumblebee?"

Bumblebee giggled and waved a little yellow finger at his guardian, "No one can replace me and you know it."

Exasperated sighs could be heard all around the room, Bumblebee clicking at his older comrades with cheeky indignation and great amusement whilst his guardian carefully set him on the floor. Bumblebee twittered and clicked at Sideswipe, who had taken to making obnoxious faces at the little bot.

"Why do I even bother?" Ironhide asked to no one in particular, the tiny bot grabbing his large hand before he could walk away.

"Come here, come here, come here," urged the youngling, dragging the old mech across the room towards the holovid, "There's this really neat holo that I found on the listings and you _promised_ that I could watch the higher-rated holos if you were with me and said they were okay."

"Bumblebee…"

"Please, please, please," the little bot pleaded, practically dangling off the mech's arm in his efforts to pull him more quickly towards the couch, "I'll be good, I promise."

"Alright," Ironhide finally sighed whilst sitting down next to the youngling and watching him flip through the channels, "What's it called?"

Bumblebee whistled as he continued to flip, drawing the attention of the other mechs that had recently gotten off shift. "You'll see."

"Bumblebee," warned Ironhide, his tone shifting into his usual stern, parental tone that only Bumblebee had ever been on the receiving end of, "What's it called?" The little bot pretended not to hear him and continued on to the correct channel. "If it is one of those holos that has bolts and— "

Ironhide trailed off, staring at the huge screen and the brightly colored title that was scrolling down it. He could clearly hear Optimus and the other Autobots gasp at the sight of the name, old memories resurfacing as they rushed across the room towards the youngling at lightning speeds. Ironhide quickly grabbed the youngling by his scruff-bar and snatched the remote out of his hand, changing the channel as fast as mechanically possible.

"Hey!" Bumblebee whined, squirming in irritation as he was placed in Optimus' arms and swiftly carried out of the room. "Optimus!"

There was no way in Pit that Ironhide or any of his fellow Autobots were going to allow the youngling to watch _**that**_ slagging holo again.

No way.

The Autobots had agreed long ago that the _Orn of the Dead_ was never again to be shown on _Artemis I_'s holo-screen. Ever.

* * *

Yay!! My first story is finally done!! I really hope that everyone has really enjoyed this story as much as I have and that you'll continue to read my other works as they progress. I will finish Little Brother within the next week or so and I'll continue to work on Youngling whilst also starting another shorter story similar to this one. Nevertheless, I hope you'll take the time to give me a few short comments on this story so that I'll know what or how to write in the next few. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed my story!!


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